


would you love me more (if i killed someone for you)

by Holybitchbatman (Sweet_Brownies)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Cheating, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Incest, It's like... if Thomas had been born in the normal DCU, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder Kink, Reunions, Sibling Incest, Wound Fucking, but you have to really squint to see that lol, not earth 3, or at least they talk about it, thomas is part of the League of assassins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28075890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweet_Brownies/pseuds/Holybitchbatman
Summary: “How’s the League?” Bruce asks, even though the silence is comfortable.The smile falters a little as Thomas shrugs. “Not the same without you there.”“I’ve been gone for nearly two decades, Tommy.”“And every day I wish you’d come back.”Bruce can’t tell if Thomas is lying, but it still feels good to hear he was missed.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Thomas Wayne Jr.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	would you love me more (if i killed someone for you)

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, Finally wrote this bitch down.
> 
> Incase any Clarity is needed (tho I hope it's not), here's their basic background:
> 
> This is an AU where Thomas was born in an otherwise normal DCU. He's 2-4 years older than Bruce (cant decide, so fuck me), and their parents were murdered before Thomas could ever make the suggestion to Bruce. Thomas convinces bruce to join the LoA for completely different reasons than Bruce would have if he'd joined the LoA himself. Bruce is 16. After four years under the league, Bruce can't handle the bloodshed and goes back to gotham without Thomas, where he does what he wants and uses his training to become Batman. Everything from there has unfolded the Way Bruce's life does normally.
> 
> Title from "If I Killed Someone For You" by Alec Bejamin, if you don't know him check him out cuz i love his songs

“He unnerves me,” Selina says, though she looks far from uncomfortable. Disgusted maybe. Weary. Thomas is in the kitchen, Bruce assumes. He’s only been in Gotham for a day, on some mission for Ra’s, and has kindly decided to stop by the manor.

Bruce feels himself stiffen without meaning to. He had only left Selina alone with him for a moment. “What did he do?”

“I don’t know...” Selina’s lips curl. “He just keeps staring at me. Are you sure you’re related?”

Bruce gives a little huff before turning to his work, enjoying the warmth of Selina's body as she sits on the arm of his chair. The office is warm, all dark woods and light browns, the lit fireplace basking everything in an orange glow. He knows it won’t last long, not with how possessive Thomas can be. He’d never leave Bruce alone for long.

Sure enough, the man comes striding in not a minute later. He looks like Bruce-- people have mistaken them for twins. There were a few differences: the slightly lighter color of Thomas’ hair, the green eyes. Like Martha. 

The man gives a smile to Selina that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, his hand coming to rest on Bruce's shoulder-- the one Selina is leaning on. “Hey Bruce,” He says, leaning down to whisper in Bruce's ear. Selina watches like a hawk, and Bruce is horribly aware of how unusual this must seem-- siblings didn’t act like this. Bruce knew that, but Thomas has always been like this. 

Thomas pushes his hand down lower, feeling Bruce’s arm and firmly pushing Selina away. “You know,” She says, standing up and sending him a glare. She’s clutching the shawl draped across her shoulders, probably to keep herself from punching the man. “I was sitting there.”

“Were you.” Thomas doesn’t take his eyes off Bruce. His breath is hot on Bruce’s ear, and with Selina in the room Bruce only grows more and more uncomfortable until it finally forces him to shift, lifting a hand and gently pushing Thomas away in a way he would have never dared to do in private. 

Bruce was about to say something, maybe to tell Thomas to go away, or to leave Selina alone, but Thomas’ eyes go cold in a way that has Bruce’s mouth drying up, staring at the offending hand. Thomas’ eyes snap to Selina, but she doesn’t flinch. Of course she doesn’t. 

“You know you’re a pretty girl,” Thomas says, crowding up on her all of a sudden. The change in mood isn’t unexpected for Bruce, but even Selina doesn’t move, too accustomed to men trying to make her back down. She squares her jaw and waits to see where Thomas is going.

“Light eyes, black hair.” He reaches up to touch the short locks, but Selina slaps his hand away. “Huh. You look like his kids.”

Selina’s eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me--”

“Or like me,” Thomas adds. “Can’t be said Brucie doesn't have a type.”

Bruce’s stomach is twisting into knots, but he forces himself to sand up before Selina can say anything to that. “Thomas, I think it’s time for you to go.”

He’s surprised his voice doesn't shake. It sounds normal, even. Thomas ignores it and grabs Selina's arm, shaking her until she hisses and tries to pry his hand off.

“Makes me wonder if his other girls look like you,” Thomas snarls. “If they’re just as feisty as you are--”

Bruce could see Selina reaching for the knife in her boot, and he knows Selina can defend herself, but Thomas would never go down without a fight, and Bruce isn’t sure he'll be able to stop them once they start. He forces himself in between them, chest to chest with Thomas for a moment before he’s pushing the man off, a firm, “Get out,” leaving his lips.

Thomas lets go easily enough, the ice in his eyes leaving as he watches Bruce for a moment. It seems even Thomas recognizes he’s inching towards a line even  _ he  _ shouldn’t cross, and he huffs, shoving Bruce before stomping out the door.

The  _ bang _ of the doorknob hitting the wall covers up the sound of Thomas’ retreating footsteps, then there's a moment of silence. Selina shifts.

“What the fuck was that,” Selina says, grabbing Bruce’s arm and turning him around. “Bruce--”

“It’s fine, Selina,” Bruce says, walking past her to sit down. But she forces herself in front of him, trying to meet his eyes.

“Don’t you dare try that on me, Bruce.” She holds both of his arms, making him stand still. “Oh, I was willing to accept your brother would be a creep towards me-- but that? What the  _ fuck _ was that?”

Bruce fights the urge to bite his lip. It isn’t something he’s done since he was a child, but he wants to, badly. “He’s always been like that.”

“Oh?” Selina stares at him disbelieving, her mouth opening and closing for a second. “Like that? Possessive? Controlling? Touching you like that? That’s all normal?”

“It’s not  _ normal-- _ ”

“But it’s normal for him,” She says, crossing her arms. “And that makes it okay.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“When you said your brother might be  _ aggressive _ I thought I would be dealing with flirting, comments, maybe jokes about how I belong in the kitchen. I feel like I just got into a fight with an abusive  _ ex _ .” 

Bruce feels nausea rise in his throat, he can barely meet Selina’s stare. They’ve never been great at communication, Selina's never gentle enough, he’s never open. It works sometimes, but right now it’s making Bruce's throat feel tighter, like he can’t quite get enough breath.

“Are you implying something?” He says, hoping she’ll back off.

Selina puts her hands on her hips and cocks an eyebrow. “And if I am?”

He sets his jaw. She’s stubborn, and he usually is, too, but the knowledge of Thomas being in the same city as him all day... it’s worn him down. Most of him wants to be left alone to finish writing up the case files. A smaller part wants to lie face down in bed and never get back up. 

“Nothing happened between us,” he lies. She lets him push past her, finally sitting back down by his desk. There are papers all over the place, but the words blur together.

He glances up and feels his heart stop for a moment while she searches his eyes. She bites her tongue and asks, “Does he want something to happen?”

Bruce’s gut instinct is to deny. It always has been. But he knows that if he feeds that same answer to Selina she won’t believe a single word that comes out of his mouth, and she’ll know what they’ve done-- that he’s--

He pinches the bridge of his nose, thinking of something. “I don’t know,” he croaks, like he hasn’t spoken for days. “Probably.”

Something that seems dangerously close to pity crosses Selina's face. “I know I said I wasn’t going to stay the night, but maybe...”

Bruce shakes his head. “No.” He wonders if his stomach is ever going to untwist itself. “No, that’ll just make it worse. I don’t trust him not to try something-- to hurt you, or--” He forces a breath out of his nose, trying to think through the weariness. “He’ll be less tense, if you’re not here. And he’s leaving tomorrow. It won’t be long.”

“Alfred will be here?” She seems reluctant, but this isn’t something Bruce is lying about. Her being here will make it worse. Thomas never liked sharing.

Bruce nods, and Selina seems to trust Alfred enough to watch over Bruce. She slips onto his lap, pulls his head on her shoulder and just keeps him there, comforting. Bruce can’t relax into her the way he wants to, doesn’t bury his face into her neck and wrap his arms around her, but he feels the tension leave him a bit. He lets her hold him.

Walking her to the door isn’t something he’s done in a while, but he has a little bit of trouble letting go of her. Thomas manages to join halfway, shouldering himself between the two of them. Bruce is worried he’d try something again, but Thomas is the picture of a gentleman. There’s a smile on his face that seems genuine, he’s polite, and even holds the door open for her as she leaves.

She doesn’t say anything with Thomas there, but her eyes clearly tell him to call her if anything happens. Then Bruce is left staring at a shut door.

“Didn’t know you were dating whores now,” Thomas says. Glancing at him reveals the same stupid smile plastered on the man’s face, though his eyes seem oddly dead.

“You think everyone I date is a whore,” Bruce murmurs, making his way to the kitchen. His few minutes with Selina had given him more energy, and Thomas isn’t so handsy now that she was gone. He feels more like a puppy, bouncing behind Bruce.

“I thought you had kids,” Thomas says.

“They’re out of town.” Bruce had made sure of that. If Selina made a habit of announcing her arrivals, he would have advised her not to come, either. 

“Pictures?” Thomas waggles his eyebrows, his eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree, and Bruce gets the disgusting urge to smile.

They find themselves looking at Bruce’s wallet photos over two mugs of hot cocoa. It isn’t the same as it used to be, they’re both older now, they’ve been living apart for too long, but the conversation flows and Bruce begrudgingly remembers that for all of Thomas’ bad, there was a reason Bruce had followed him halfway across the world. He’d planned on staying by Thomas’ side forever, the two of them against the world.

“This is the new one, right?” Thomas asks, picking up a picture.

“Duke.” Bruce nods, the warmth of Thomas’ arm pressing against him as he leans over to look at the picture. Duke has a closed-mouth look of disgust on his face, Titus slobbering all over the poor boy’s chin. It was the only decent picture of Duke he has. Duke, as it turns out, is stellar at avoiding cameras.

Thomas has a small smile on his face as he looks at the pictures, and for a moment Bruce wants to introduce the man to them-- but he can’t. He knows he can’t. Thomas is just too much of a wild card.

“How’s the League?” Bruce asks, even though the silence is comfortable.

The smile falters a little as Thomas shrugs. “Not the same without you there.”

“I’ve been gone for nearly two decades, Tommy.”

“And every day I wish you’d come back.”

Bruce can’t tell if Thomas is lying, but it still feels good to hear he was missed. Bruce hates the warmth that blooms in his chest.

“You could, you know,” Thomas whispers. “You could bring your Kids. You know Ra’s would pardon you-- he would.” He’s suddenly leaning into Bruce’s face, warm hands cupping his cheeks, the puff of breath across his lips. “We’d be together, again. Fighting alongside one another, just like when we were younger.”

“I’m not cut out to be an assassin,” Bruce says, pulling away. Thomas holds on tighter, forcing Bruce to stay still. “I can’t do it.”

“You can,” Thomas pecks his lips, and Bruce tastes bile in the back of his throat. “I’ll teach you to like it, and we’ll be happy. That was the plan, right?”

_ It was _ , Bruce thinks as Thomas’ lips slide hot over his, wet and open as Bruce sits there and does nothing. He was sixteen and stupid enough to believe that he could do anything Thomas asked of him, had run away with his brother to become an assassin. He still remembers what it feels like to have dead man’s blood on his hands, the disappointment in Thomas’ eyes when Bruce spent hours over the toilet emptying his stomach out over the sight. He’d spent four years training under the League. He’d been the best fighter, but the only one who couldn’t stomach the final blow.

And like a coward, he ran.

The weight of Thomas sliding into his lap brings him back, the feel of Thomas’ hands sliding down his body makes Bruce’s stomach twist again. Thomas’ fingers are undoing his belt, and Bruce panics.

“Tommy, stop,” Bruce says, he reaches down to try to stop those hands. “Stop.” He has Selina now, and his kids-- he has a life outside of Thomas. He’s had one for twenty years.

Thomas pushes his hands away, reaching up to pull a fistful of Bruce’s hair. “No.” And the lips are back on him, a hand down his pants. Bruce hates that he’s half-hard, hates the way his stomach flutters in a good way this time, but he loves it, too. He misses it.

He opens his mouth to let Thomas in, and his brother jumps at the invitation, tongue fucking him until there’s drool down Bruce’s chin and neck. Bruce hates the mess, but Thomas would always smear the lube up his back and down his legs, mark him with his cum and piss, lick him everywhere he could reach.

A whine leaves Thomas’ mouth, and then he’s pulling Bruce out of his pants to grind their bare cocks together. It’s dry, but it makes Bruce twitch, and then Thomas is sliding a hand through all of the drool and pumping their cocks with it, making Bruce gasp and squirm in his seat.

“Want you to come home,” Thomas moans, mouthing at Bruce’s neck. “Could--  _ ngh-- _ could do this all the time. Killing’s not the same without you. Wanna... wanna feel the blood on your hands, want you to watch me work--”

Thomas goes faster, letting out coos and moans as his hips grind in circles. Bruce let his mouth hang open, his eyebrows furrowed with pleasure. He couldn’t do that, he couldn’t, but he wants to. By god, he wants to do what Thomas asked, and he let himself get lost in the fantasy. 

“Got a hit the other day,” Thomas says, “She was so pretty, Bruce, I know you would have liked her. Cut her up till she was painted red--” Thomas’ hips stutter, and he squeezes to keep himself from cuming. “Cut her right here.” He brings his hand down from Bruce’s hair to trace a line across Bruce's stomach, right below his navel. Bruce groans, imagining the smell of blood heavy in the air, the girl on her back. He knows what she would look like, black hair framing her face, blue eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling. He should be disgusted, but he wasn’t. Not with Thomas right there.

“I fucked her,” Thomas whispers, his fingers pressing against where the cut would have been. Thomas stops moving his hand so that the only sound in the room is their heavy breathing. “Wish you felt her. She was warm and tight and  _ so fucking wet _ .”

Bruce’s hips give an involuntary thrust, and he can’t help the keen that falls from his lips. Bruce wants to tell Thomas to move his damned hand but he can’t find his voice. Then--  _ fuck _ \-- Thomas is moving too fast, holding too tight, and Bruce suddenly can’t  _ breath. _ He’s holding onto the seat so hard he’s sure he’ll break the chair, but he can’t let go for fear of never being able to find reality again.

“Come back home, Bruce. I want you to come back.” Breath hitching, Thomas says, “I wanna watch you kill someone again.” 

Just like that, Thomas is cuming, white spurts of it landing on Bruce’s stomach and cock, staining his pants. Before he’s even done, Thomas’ fingers are smearing it everywhere, under his shirt and on his face, pushing some into Bruce’s mouth. Bruce sucks on it of course, though he doesn't like to, until Thomas stops biting his lip and smiles lazily.

Bruce is achingly aware of how hard he is, but he keeps his hands on the chair arms like he’s been taught. Soon enough, Thomas is sliding down in front of him, taking Bruce's cock into his mouth and sucking. It’s infuriatingly slow, but Bruce is worked up enough that it doesn’t take long, and within minutes he’s rocking his hips into Thomas’ mouth and his brother swallows.

Thomas doesn’t waste a moment, sliding back into Bruce’s lap to share a kiss, tasting themselves in the other’s mouth. When the intense high turns into a pleasant buzz, Bruce gives Thomas’ tongue a suck that elicits a shiver, and Bruce is suddenly aware of how little he wants this.

He pulls his face away, but there’s nowhere for him to go. And then he’s confused, because he doesn’t really want to go anywhere. Thomas is warm, and the room is cold-- the type of cold it gets only when everyone is supposed to be sleeping. He wraps his arms around Thomas and buries his face into the crook of his neck, feeling fingers run gently through his hair.

“You’re coming back home?” Thomas asks hopefully, and there's a rise of nausea sitting in Bruce’s throat. “Bruce?”

“I can’t,” Bruce whispers. “I can’t.”

Thomas tenses, and Bruce does the same. It feels like someone had taken hold of his stomach and  _ squeezed _ . 

“You can’t.” Thomas sounds dead.

Dread climbs up Bruce’s spine, and he wants to cry. He wants to beg Thomas to forgive him, wants to take back what he said and leave with his brother tonight. But he can’t be what Thomas needs, and living through the disappointment of that again—

“I can’t,” Bruce says. His voice is shaking. He’d rather kill himself then face knowing he’s failing Thomas every day. He holds Thomas tighter, like that might stop whatever happens next.

Thomas is standing up and tucking himself in, and the sudden backhand has Bruce’s face snapping to the side, tears stinging his eyes. His cheek burns with pain.

Bruce is older now. Bigger than he used to be, skilled. He’s gone toe to toe with  _ gods _ and won. He didn’t have to put up with Thomas’ crap anymore. He could fight back. 

He deserves it, though. He knows he does.

Just as Thomas looks like he’s ready to kick something— probably him— there’s an, “Oh, my,” at the doorway.

It’s Alfred, of course, looking put together even in sleepwear. All of Thomas’ anger melts into a smile, and then he’s stepping in front of Bruce, giving him a chance to tuck himself in and wipe off his face.

Alfred probably notices. There’s no way the man doesn’t know, not with how impulsive Thomas can be, not with the amount of timely interventions Alfred has staged, like this one. 

“Look at you.” Alfred smiles. “It’s quite a pleasure to see you, my boy. It’s been a while, has it not?”

“Sorry I haven’t said Hi yet,” Thomas says. He looks sheepish, not that it means much. “Didn’t want to wake you. I figured I’d just do it in the morning, you know?”

Alfred hums. “I’m not interrupting something, am I?” Alfred asks, looking pointedly at Bruce. Bruce can’t quite meet his eyes.

“Of course not!” Thomas throws an arm around Alfred’s shoulders, leading him towards the counter. “Hey, do you think you could make me something quick? I gotta admit, after all these years I really miss your cooking.”

Alfred nods and prepares something simple— eggs with some vegetables, a glass of orange juice. It’s too late to be eating, but Thomas won’t be here for long.

After the small meal is over, Thomas stands. “I planned on staying for a bit longer, but I think it’s time for me to head out.”

“It’s late,” Bruce protests, standing with Thomas and reaching out his hand. He doesn’t grab Thomas, he’s not allowed, but he hopes his eyes say enough.  _ Don’t go. _

He should go, though. Thomas is a vile man, a liar and a murderer. It’s best if Thomas is out of Gotham, away from his family and everything he cares about. 

“Your room is still next to mine,” Bruce says. “You can stay the night. It won’t be a problem.” 

Thomas won’t stay in his room, even if he took the offer. They both know that. And something in Thomas’ eyes looks pleased to know that Bruce was essentially inviting him to bed, to share one more night tangled in each other’s arms.

“Best not to keep Ra’s waiting,” is what Thomas says, and after hugging Alfred and giving Bruce a kiss on the forehead he’s out of the kitchen, no doubt making his way out the door.

“I must say,” Alfred says into the silence, “It’s quite a shock to see your brother after so long. Things were quite different when the two of you were here.”

Bruce only lets out a huff of air, leaving his cocoa to make his way up to his bedroom. It seems emptier than usual, and Bruce lays down without bothering to pull the cover over himself. He doesn’t want to cry. He doesn’t want to do anything but sleep. But maybe crying will bring Thomas back, have his brother hold him and comfort him the way he did when they were kids.

It’s a stupid thought, but Bruce wants it to be true.

Regardless, he closes his eyes. When Selina wakes him in the morning she has coffee with her, sitting lightly on the edge of his bed.

“I see he’s gone now,” she says, taking a sip from her own mug. “Is everything alright?”

Bruce looks at her dark hair, the clarity of her eyes, the warmth in her smile and the pink of her cheeks. He wonders for a moment what she would look like dead, blood smeared over her chest and cold to the touch.

Thomas did say she was pretty.

“I’m fine,” Bruce says, but he doesn’t take the coffee. Instead he rolls over and closes his eyes, tries to think of anything but the gruesome images filling his head. 

Selina doesn’t believe him, but she seems to let it go for now. She slips into bed behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, her breath a light tickle on the back of his neck.

“He’s gone now,” she murmurs. 

“I know.” Bruce isn’t sure if that makes him relieved, or sad. “He’s gone.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments? I honestly just wanna know if the story made any sense lol
> 
> Haha poor Bruce, Thomas really fucks with his head


End file.
